The atheist to wear the crucifix


The rope around my neck is evil-old,

As grown as sin, as wrung as elder wood.


Neck to the height of hell, the tower held

In sepulchre, the overhead as old.


I wore around my neck the execution,

The weight of gold, the burden of the passion.


Crossed in gold – embossed in sacrifice,

I wore the resurrection and the life. 



I am a recovering Catholic, or rather a Catholic in remission. I do still hunger for the gorgeous symbolism, and the sense of history which clings to the religion. I think the exploration of that symbolism is really where I got started with this one. 


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